Fallen: The Lives of the X Men
by FaeNocturne
Summary: A series of one-shots or two-shots about the lives of the X-men. After all, their lives aren't as perfect as they seem. So far: Rogue, Kitty, and now Jean. Contains angst. Don't like, don't read.
1. Chapter 1: Spiral

A/N: I know!!!! I really should be working on my other story, Crystal and Brimstone, or my soon-to-be series of oneshots, When the World Comes Crashing Down, but I just felt like making this one-shot. I'm not sure if I'll add to it, but be warned, it's likely going to be angsty, and either a one-shot, a story, or a series of random drabbles, perhaps a series of one-shots that make up a short story. Please don't shoot me for not updating in so long!! I'm having tons of creative juices flowing, but none of them are for my other stories!!!!

Anyhow, without further ado, I present to you my one-shot, simply titled Spiral.

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It's been so long since she was the Rogue that we once knew. The feisty, fiery Rogue who was a surprisingly good listener. We weren't sure exactly how it happened, but Logan had a good guess of when it started: after Apocalypse had used her. It wasn't so bad while she was helping fight him, or when Gambit kidnapped her, but it got so much worse after she had to absorb Dorian. He was so young, and her powers growing. Those two factors resulted in Dorian(Leech) being in a coma for a few days. He woke up, and was fine, simply a little bit weak, but Rogue went there every day that he was in the hospital.

That was when it got so much worse. She spent most of the time in her room, coming out very little besides training sessions, and then only at night. Her skin became even paler, her eyes rimmed in red beneath the dark eyeliner. She was almost always seen reading a book, listening to her CD player: anything to isolate herself from the world, to keep them from bothering her. Kitty went in there every so often, phasing through the locked door. She always tried to be happy and cheerful for Rogue, but we could see the worry and concern on her face.

She started coming out a bit more, coming to dinner at least and sometimes even watching a movie on 'movie night', the Saturday night where most of the available X-men stay in the den and watch an agreed-upon movie. Of course, then Scott just had to try and get her to open up to him, resulting, unfortunately, in Jean becoming slightly jealous at Scott spending so much time with Rogue, and Rogue not saying a word.

Finally, Scott was extremely frustrated. In a fit of teenage cruelty, he agreed with Jean to play a practical joke of Rogue. No one knew the details, but it somehow went awry. Poor Jamie, who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, received the full force of Rogue's powers, waking up five days later in the infirmary. Jean and Scott were punished, of course, but they didn't care. They apologized to Jamie, but they refused to apologize to Rogue, and that was what hurt Rogue the most. That, and Jamie had been special to Rogue. He hadn't been afraid of her, and he had always been just bursting with things to talk about, letting Rogue forget her problems in lieu of his. Some people might consider it insensitive; Rogue didn't mind at all, and she felt so awful about hurting him.

She reverted back to the sad, strange Rogue, the Rogue that no one knew. The only time that she came out of her room was at night, once or twice a week, to find new books or to eat, or onto her balcony. If you were on a balcony, you could see her there, and you could almost swear that there was the glint of tears, making their glistening trails on her face. Kitty brought in meals, but they mostly went untouched. She had been changing, doing so well, and then Jean and Scott just had to ruin all of her progress. Most of the X-men were angry, especially Jamie, and when he got out of the infirmary, Jean and Scott were the victim of some rather nasty practical jokes.

It continued, the depression; everyone said to give her time, that she would get over it, but she simply kept spiraling downward, further and further until even she didn't know who she was, spiraling over and over into the darkness.

Logan tried his best: he always understood her better than the other adults. But it wasn't helping enough. It helped some, but she had been fighting that feeling of depression for so long, and it was such a relief to finally give in to them. She had lost the will, the fight. It was there, but just so far buried, so far hidden beneath her thoughts, the people in her head telling her that she couldn't fight it any more.

Then, he came. The man who had tried to kill us all at one point or another, the thief with a thing for cards: the person who was Rogue's best chance. None of us trusted him, especially not Scott, but we all grudgingly admitted that he had the best chance of reaching her. He was one of the few people that he had opened up to, and we all had to admit that the rest of us weren't helping.

We all watched him closely, especially for the first few days that he was here. We had all warned him personally about what would happen if he did anything to Rogue, but there was something in his eyes, something burning in the ruby red, that told us he wouldn't do anything to her.

The first time he tried anything, he was rewarded by being thrown out of a window. That was wonderful, considering she had seemed so apathetic to everything around her. He tried again and again, day after day, and each day he was thrown out the window. Eventually, the Professor simply put some fabric over the broken window instead of replacing it every week.

But one day, Rogue was having an 'attack' again. I'm not sure what you would call it, but her psyches were acting up. Professor X had done his best to wipe all of them out, but absorbing everyone while under Mastermind's control had really messed up her mind.

He went in through the window, like he always did, but she didn't even have the strength to throw him out. She was shaking and trembling, wanting to just give in, lose control, and die. All of her will was going into that, none left for making the effort to be social. He saw all of this, and it hurt him so much, especially knowing that he couldn't make the psyches leave her, so he did the one thing that he could: he just sat there with his arms around her.

She tried to fight, get rid of his embrace, but it had been such a fight, and she was just so tired……..

And that was how our Rogue, our beautiful, painful Rogue, fell asleep in the arms of Remy LeBeau.

It wasn't easy for her to open up--after all, spirals are much harder to climb up than to go down-- but he was there every step of the way. He was almost always close to her, showing his affection in subtle, protective gestures. The old Rogue, she would have just told him to take a hike, but this Rogue wasn't the old one. She was different now, not pretending to be a tough girl, but being tough when it was needed and kind when that was needed. Not to say that she wasn't the prickly, stubborn girl that she had been before, she was just……different, in a way that was almost impossible to explain.

And that is how _mein schwester_ fell in love with a thief.

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A/N: Well, that's it!!! I hope you liked it, and look forward to Fallen #2---Kitty. Yes, even the Valley Girl has some problems. Anyhow, tell me what you think, or just read it and enjoy---whatever floats your sherpa!!! So, until next time!!


	2. Chapter 2: Beautiful

A/N: Okay, so this may not be Kitty….on the other hand, it might be. Truthfully, I am just going to sit here and do some stream-of-consciousness writing or whatever. I'll tell you at the end if I expected this result or not, but for now…on to writing!!

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Nobody would have guessed it, looking at her. She was a sweet, pretty girl, always cheerful, smiling, quick to anger and quick to forgive.

Nobody would have guessed how much she hated herself, how much she obsessed over being the thinnest, the best, more 'beautiful' than the day before. Friends asked, but she claimed she had a cold, she wasn't feeling well, she had eaten a big breakfast…whatever it took to get them off her back. Her friends were concerned, of course, but this was high school—a new drama every day, so many problems of your own that sometimes it's hard to hear a small voice, even when it's screaming.

She ate as little as possible. If any of the teachers were watching, she could always eat a lot and clean it out after dinner. She distanced herself from her friends, started writing home less and less often. With less energy, it was harder to keep up that happy face. How much easier it was to just sleep, not have to deal with constant questions, constant scrutiny.

Lance was the only one who hadn't given up. He loved her, cared for her, and she was scaring him. He kept asking her, kept prodding her, kept at it until she screamed the words she knew would hurt the most and left him. She cried all that week as she remembered what they had had, as she realized he hadn't loved her for her body, as she imagined how much her words must have hurt. She lied, told them she had become disillusioned with him. It went over easily; nobody had really approved of their relationship in the first place. Rogue took some more convincing, some more lies, but the more she told, the easier they became.

The numbers told her truth; the mirrors told her lies. How much smaller she was, the fact that she could feel her ribs, it didn't matter. It always had to be more. She had tried to stop, but she was so used to it. It was her safety blanket, her control. She tried, but she couldn't stand it. It was so repulsive to see so many calories, so much food. It was almost impossible to even watch any more. So she secluded herself more, gave the pretense of going out, spent more hours at the Mansion's private gym. She told everyone she wanted to have more muscle, she wanted to be stronger. She wanted to be more beautiful, and each day made her more fragile. It was only a matter of time until she shattered.

It wasn't until she collapsed in a fight that everyone realized how much of Kitty they had lost.

They had all been so busy with their lives, fighting their emotions to come out on top. They had pressed, but they were afraid of pressing too hard. When she told them what they wanted to hear, it was a relief. One less thing that they had to carry around with them. Logan hadn't been there—he had run off again, arriving back just in time to suit up and help out.

They didn't know what to do; this had never happened before. It's so easy to fight the enemy coming at you from outside—it's black and white, you're good, they're bad, and you fight the best that you can. But how do you fight an enemy that comes from the inside?

Rogue realized that she had lost the Kitty with a naive and mostly innocent perspective. Rogue, the cynical goth, had scoffed and rolled her eyes. Rogue, the friend, had hoped that Kitty would keep that view for a long time.

Kurt realized that he had lost the Kitty who never gave up if she was bad at something. He had mentioned missing _Altdeutsche Brotchen_, or Old German Muffins, a treat his mom made in Germany. Kitty had found the recipe and tried tirelessly to make some for his birthday. She had finally managed to make one good batch of them (probably because Jean and Rogue helped liberally) on his birthday. It had taken two months, and she had managed to give almost everyone food poisoning, but she hadn't given up.

Logan had lost the Kitty who sometimes understood his gruff ways. She had been there when he was out-of-control, she had talked him out of something he would have never forgiven himself for.

Professor Xavier and Kitty's parents decided that it was best to send her somewhere else. She went to a facility, a rehabilitation center. She was there for months, and everyone realized that she had been the balance. When she returned, she wasn't magically "all better". She needed the help of almost everyone in the mansion at one point or another. When they asked how she was doing, how she felt, she started telling them the truth.

It took her time to go back to Lance. She was afraid that he had moved on, afraid that what she said would never be forgiven. His first words were,

"I've been waiting for you."

The Kitty that everyone had known wasn't entirely gone. That Kitty was still there, in her smile, in her patience. But this Kitty was…different. Everyone had known that Kitty was sensitive. Now, she was a little bit more understanding, slower to judge.

It was as if Kitty had been made of porcelain that shattered and had been remade from something...stronger. Still slightly delicate and beautiful, but built to last. Harder to break.

Now, she was truly beautiful.

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A/N: Okay, I just wrote two fanfiction drabbles in one night. That is seriously a record for me. Maybe it's because I don't have to focus so much on getting as much time with my friend now. If anyone wants to know, she moved to China on the 20th of August. Maybe it's because I know that school starts for me in a week and two days (sob). Maybe it's because I haven't written much for a while—my last being "Black and Yellow Roses". You know, I bet that I could write a drabble/chapter/something a day if I put my mind to it. I do believe that I will try!!

By the way, I hope that anybody will correct me if they feel the need. I have never struggled with anorexia myself, but I swear I am an 'empath'. I try to imagine how different things would feel. I 'feel' more deeply than most people. Or maybe I'm just imaginative. Anyway, corrections, reviews, constructive criticism…it's all welcome!!

And this idea was based off of a youtube AMV called "Kitty Pryde's Courage" by 3GlitteringRose3. The song is "Courage" by Superchick, and I also was thinking of "Beauty from Pain" by Superchick while I was writing this.

So, sorry for talking so long, and I hope this fanfiction wasn't a waste of your time!!


	3. Chapter 3: Perfection

A/N: Wow—I'm actually sticking with my plan to write at least one chapter/drabble a day. If you haven't seen it, it's at the end of "Fallen: The Lives of the X-men" in my A/N. Anyway, since I have no life and school is starting soon, I'm trying to write more and learn to continue writing even when school starts. Anyway, on to the fanficton!

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They thought I was perfect, so I was. I am. I have to be. See—I'm not any good at this 'free writing'. I don't even know why I'm doing this! Writing the truth for my essay, I mean. Because usually everyone makes things up to write about. Not to offend you or anything, Miss Perelli, but they do. Maybe it's because you've never treated me differently even though I'm a mutant. Maybe it's because it's almost the end of high school for me. As I said before, I. Don't. Know.

Anyway, the "main issue in my life" is Perfection. Everybody calls me Miss Perfect. They don't get how much work being perfect takes. I can't have a zit. I can't use too much make-up. I can't have frizzy hair. The list goes on and on. But the physical perfection isn't that hard. Being socially and emotionally perfect is much harder.

I have to know the right words to say. I have to be tactful and diplomatic and I can't show any favoritism. I have to be a mediator. I have to be patient and kind to all of the younger girls. I have to deal with "hearing" or "seeing" somebody else's teenage thoughts or visions when they're too strong to be held back by my mental blocks. I have to listen to everybody's problems. I have to control my temper and all of my bad emotions.

There are so many expectations, so much pressure. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode, going to break. But of course, I can't explode. I can't break. Because perfect people don't do that. Perfect people don't explode.

I can never just skip a practice session and go shopping with my friends. Everybody would be disappointed. After all, I'm supposed to be a "role model". I'm supposed to be perfect, so the other girls will follow my lead.

I'm expected to find a wonderful "Prince Charming". I'm supposed to find him and then never look at other guys again. Scott's a great guy, really, and I love him—a part of me does and always will. But sometimes I want him to do something unexpected, to do something spontaneous. It seems like every time we kiss, he plans it in advance. Sometimes, I want to rebel. I want to find someone else, someone vibrant and exciting. Someone who people don't expect me to be with just because we're so much alike.

Sometimes, I envy Rogue so much. She doesn't have to sugarcoat things for anyone, she doesn't have to be nice if she doesn't feel like it, and she is allowed to isolate herself. I feel bad that she can't touch anyone, but… she's so free. How many times have I plastered a smile on my face and helped someone who asked, when all I wanted to do was go and think somewhere, all alone? How many times have I forced myself to look perky, cheerful, _perfect_ so everybody thinks it's okay? How many times have I said "I'm fine" when I'm not? How many times have I forced myself to face the day, go to school, when all I really want is to curl up and give myself over to the numbness of sleep for a few more hours?

Sometimes, I envy the Brotherhood too. They don't do things just because they're the right things to do. They can cuss and drink and gamble and stay up late watching TV. They are free to be themselves, however arrogant or disgusting that is.

It's just—everyone wants something. Nobody gives. Kitty wants advice, Amara wants sympathy. Jamie wants attention, Roberto wants suggestions. Scott wants obedience, reassurance. The Professor wants a role model for the younger kids. Kurt wants someone to ask about girls.

And they're all so busy taking, not even realizing how little is left. One by one, piece by piece, they take and take and take until I'm all tapped out, only a cutout left in the rain. I have to control my temper. I can't be snarky. I can't stay mad at anyone. I can't tell some of them what I really think. And what is left after that? Happiness, and joy. Cheerful, smiling Jean. I'm left with fake joy, fake words, and a personality like damp, soggy cardboard.

I wonder, would anybody notice if I was replaced? Replaced by a cutout, or a doll? It would have a button you press for the right words, and the right actions. It would always be perfect, wearing cute little outfits and smiling cute little smiles and laughing cute little laughs. Sometimes, I am that doll. I let other people tell me what to say and what to do. Truthfully, I don't even know if I believe that peace between mutants and humans is possible. Professor X tells us all that. Why do I believe it? I don't know if I do. Sometimes, I think that there is a dark side hidden in the benevolent Professor. That he really wants me for my powers, to keep Scott here, that he really wouldn't care if I died so long as a carbon copy took my place.

But I will never know, because I've never had the nerve to ask.

So here I am, this living doll. Need comfort? You'll get it. Reassurance and kisses? Yes, Scott will get that. Rahne will get her mentor, the New Recruits will get their teacher. And me? I'll get nothing. They'll just keep taking and taking, piece by piece, until I'll wake up one day, the loving wife in a suburban house with two kids and a minivan, and I'll realize that I don't know who I am anymore, because all of what I was is gone.

But, of course, I learn many things this way. I learn how to cry in silence, at night, so no one else hears. I learn how to take the bathroom early so I can put ice cubes in a washcloth to hide my tears. I learn how to claim an extra club that I don't have, so I can go somewhere secluded and scream until I'm hoarse. I learn how to die slowly, on the inside. I learn to push my anger into my training.

I learn how to hide the fact that I don't know who I am anymore.

So, feel free to envy me. Feel free to think that I'm getting special treatment. Feel free to be jealous, to be petty and gossip about me. Feel free to think that life is unfair, that I have so much and you so little.

Because being perfect isn't all it's cracked up to be.

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A/N: Well, that went quicker than expected. Surprisingly, I'm not even in an angsty mood. I've decided, though—angst is definitely my forte. I made this fanfiction because of two others that I read, both of which I have long since forgotten the names too. One was about Jean being frustrated with her life. The other had an Author's Note that mentioned Jean having the personality of cardboard. I also channeled a little bit of the comic book Professor X into this—he's rather mysterious and dark in the comics, at least most of the ones I've read. So—liked, hated, indifferent? You tell me. This is my first piece of Jean angst, a rather uncommon thing in and of itself. So, I hope you enjoyed it!


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